


hungry work

by superstringtheory



Series: hungry heart [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, F/M, Feeding Kink, Hand Jobs, Light Dom/sub, Stuffing, Teasing, Texting, Voyeurism, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 02:59:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12739635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: Betty Cooper: got started without me?Jughead Jones: I’m working on my novelJughead Jones: it’s hungry work, Betty.





	hungry work

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to youwilllovemylaugh for the very speedy beta read (and helping me remember the difference between "horizontal" and "vertical", dear lord, and Queen of Titles and Monikers (greyskygirl) for the title.

“I was thinking,” Betty says one Thursday afternoon. They’ve finished up the week’s issue of  _ The Blue and Gold _ and she and Jughead have been hanging around the newspaper office to spend some time alone. 

 

“And?” Jughead finishes for her, and Betty bites her lip a little, looking down at the desk, tracing her finger over some of the initials carved there by students decades-gone and graduated. 

 

“Well…” She takes a deep breath. “I was thinking we could so something like we did last time.” 

 

“Oh?” the corner of Jughead’s mouth quirks a little. “And just what did you have in mind?” 

 

Betty can feel the blush creeping up her face, but she steels herself with the mental image of herself in that black bobbed wig, telling Jughead what to do and watching him do it without question. 

 

“I want you to eat as much as you can,” she says all at once, before the nerve can leave her. “And I want to watch.” 

 

***

 

Betty has to admit, it’s been a lot easier now that Jughead knows what she’s up to, knows what really revs her engine and makes her clock tick. At least it’s been easier in some certain ways, but he’s also taken the opportunity to be a tease and god, Miss Elizabeth is going to have to do something about that. 

 

So she’s been distracted all day, zoning out in class and while talking to Veronica and has made exactly zero progress on her next article for the _ Blue and Gold _ . The cursor keeps blinking at her in a scolding way, and she rolls her neck and stretches her shoulders for the second time in ten minutes. There’s no way she’s going to get anything done today, not when she can see Jughead out of the corner of her eye, his motorcycle-booted feet propped up on a desk, thoughtfully chewing on the end of a pen. 

 

Her phone buzzes, and Betty almost knocks the computer mouse off of the desk, fumbling for it awkwardly. 

 

 **Veronica Lodge:** _Gurl what is with you today? You gonna get all over that brooding man of yours again?_

 

Betty feels herself blush, and she quickly crosses and recrosses her legs. 

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _I should never have told you that._

 

**Veronica Lodge:** _ Oh, please. I’ve been shipping it since I moved here. Your chemistry is like, ready to make new elements.  _

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ Okay, fine. Jug and I have some plans for tonight. _

 

**Veronica Lodge:** _ DEETS!!!!! _

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ V, that’s private!!  _

 

**Veronica Lodge:** _ You’re the worst. You’re lucky I love you.  _

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ … maybe we’ll have a girl’s night soon and I’ll tell you a little bit. But just a little.  _

 

**Veronica Lodge:** _ You better.  _

 

***

 

Her phone buzzes again right after the last text from Veronica, and Betty sighs, feeling annoyed until she swipes and sees that the message is not from Veronica. 

 

**Jughead Jones:** _ you ready to get out of here? A man could eat. _

 

A little throb of want suffuses her, just at that word,  _ eat _ . God, what he does to her. 

 

Betty rereads the text, and then pushes back her chair, standing up. Jughead looks up a moment later, a little curlicue of dark hair escaping his beanie. He raises an eyebrow at her, feigning innocence. 

 

“Meet you at Pop’s?” Betty asks, sounding a lot braver than she feels. 

 

“I’ll be in my usual booth.” Jughead gets up and puts his laptop back in his bag, and Betty takes the opportunity to move a little closer to him. He turns around and there’s a buffer of space between them, like if she got any closer the magnetic force would be too great and she’d never get away again. 

 

They stand there looking at each other for a moment longer than necessary, and then Jughead’s pulling her in close to him, crushing his mouth to hers. His tongue tastes like hunger. 

 

Betty has to drag herself back before she gets too carried away. 

 

“See you at Pop’s,” she says, a little breathlessly, and then goes out the door before she can be persuaded to stay. 

 

***

 

In the parking lot at Pop’s, Betty checks herself in the rearview mirror for a second and third time. Her wig is on straight, and the black beret also looks good- a little jaunty, but not enough to draw any attention. She wipes her palms on the black skinny jeans she’d filched from Polly’s closet, and runs her hands down the flannel she’s wearing over a black t-shirt. She’d seen the way Jughead had looked when she’d slipped on his shirt over her underwear and no bra, and she wanted to see him look that way again. 

 

The door to the Chock’lit Shop is heavy, but Betty pulls it open with determination. She’s glad to see no familiar faces as she steps in-- her information had been right, and Pop was at the football game along with most of the rest of the town-- and she lets out a little sigh of relief. 

 

The waitress isn’t one of the usuals, and Betty doesn’t make eye contact as she sits down and orders a cup of coffee. The waitress moves away after pouring it, but Betty waits a minute regardless before she looks up. 

 

Jughead’s in his usual booth in the back corner, typing away at his laptop, occasionally reaching over to the plate next to him and putting a french fry in his mouth. There’s a half-eaten burger on the plate, too, and a large milkshake gleams with condensation at Jughead’s elbow. 

 

Betty’s mouth goes dry. 

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _got started without me?_

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _I’m working on my novel_

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _it’s hungry work, Betty._

 

Betty blinks. She reads the message again. Jughead looks up and catches her eye, then takes a long pull on the milkshake straw. 

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _…_

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _…_

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _… naughty boy. You pacing yourself?_

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _Just watch and see_

 

*** 

 

So Betty does. 

 

She watches, as Jughead finishes his first burger and fries and polishes off the milkshake, all in quick order. She watches as he motions the waitress over but can’t quite hear what he’s saying, and she’s no good at lip-reading. 

 

Instead, she grabs her phone and starts typing.

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _Add a side of onion rings to whatever you just ordered_

 

She purses her lips and thinks for a second. 

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ And a soda  _

 

Jughead’s finger crooks, and then his lips move some more, and Betty wants nothing more than to taste the grease on them. She sips at her coffee, not even surprised to find it gone cold. She couldn’t taste a thing right now anyway, her mouth is full of electricity. 

 

*** 

 

Jughead types fast for a long time, the laptop angled away from him a little so it’s not hiding him. Betty’s grateful for that, even though she knows it was carefully calculated. She might be the foregone winner of this game, but there’s more than one player. 

 

The soda and onion rings come out before Jughead’s second order, and Betty watches Jughead reach for the onion rings immediately, picking one up and then dropping it just as quickly. 

 

“Too hot,” he mouths clearly in her direction, and Betty breaks the eye contact. Even though they’re alone here save for the fry cook in back and the waitress, she doesn’t want to call attention to this-- this whatever it is they’re doing. 

 

**Betty Cooper:** drink up, then 

 

Jughead reads her text message and then takes a moment to catch her eye again before he raises the glass in her direction. Her breath catches in her throat as Jughead’s Adam’s apple bobs. He gulps greedily and doesn’t stop until the glass is empty. 

 

Betty normally loves the retro, sugary-sweet pop music that suffuses the Chock’lit Shop, but tonight, she curses it. To her scrutinizing eye, it looks like Jughead lets out a breath and then a few long belches, the rumbling kind that come from drinking too much soda too fast. 

 

Betty’s phone buzzes, and she feels for it without moving her gaze from Jughead and the way his hand is resting on the top of his belly, patting it a little. 

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _that felt good_

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _definitely cleared out some room. ;)_

 

 **Betty Cooper:** _…_

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ don’t let your onion rings get cold  _

 

*** 

 

After he finishes the onion rings and what looks like a chicken patty with more fries on the side, Jughead’s starting to slow down. He’s taking more breaks-- ostensibly to type, but Betty knows better-- and his hand is going down to his stomach more and more. 

 

The waitress comes around to see if Betty’s doing okay, and Betty doesn’t even hear her until her phone buzzes and she reads off the message from Jughead. 

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _the waitress is trying to get your attention_

 

 **Jughead Jones:** _come on, watching me make a glutton of myself isn’t THAT interesting_

 

Betty blushes hard as she looks up. The waitress’ expression is a mixture of annoyance and amusement. 

“I think he likes you,” she says after Betty refuses more coffee. 

 

“Sorry?” 

 

“I said, I think he likes you.” The waitress tips her head in Jughead’s direction. Jughead toasts the both of them with his empty soda glass. 

 

“Maybe you should go over and say hello. But first, it looks like our best customer is ready for a refill.” The waitress nods at Betty knowingly, and Betty feels her face go hot. Is she really that obvious? 

 

Then her brain catches on the other thing the waitress said, the thing about Jughead being their best customer. Does she mean that Jughead’s in here often, eating like this? Or is she merely talking about tonight and Jughead’s seemingly bottomless stomach? 

 

**Betty Cooper:** _ you look like you’re getting full over there _

 

**Jughead Jones:** _ why don’t you come and find out _

 

*** 

 

Betty leaves a crisp twenty tucked neatly underneath her coffee cup, and gets out of her booth, willing her hands not to shake. 

 

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jughead says as she slides into the booth across from him. 

 

“It’s a hoppin’ spot tonight,” Betty says, affecting a confidence she doesn’t feel. It’s one thing to watch him from afar, but to be a breath away from one of her wildest fantasies coming true? It’s all a little too much. 

 

But that’s what this is all about, really, isn’t it? Too much feeling and sugar and calories and the sheer excess of it all makes her breathless, even though Jughead’s the one with the painfully full belly. 

 

“How are you doing?” she asks, feeling like the question is woefully inadequate for all she really means to say. 

 

Jughead tilts his head to the side. “I’m thinking about a Reuben,” he says finally, and Betty’s breath quickens. 

 

“... a Reuben, huh?” she finally manages, and Jughead just nods sagely. 

 

“I thought you wanted me to eat as much as I could,” he says, and Betty laughs a little. 

 

“What?” Jughead asks. “I’m still hungry.” 

 

“Hmm,” Betty says. “Let’s see what we can do about that.” 

 

*** 

 

He’s certainly not hungry by the time he’s determinedly plunking the last few fries into ketchup and chasing a few stray pieces of sauerkraut around his plate. 

 

“Getting close,” he tells Betty after another fry, swallowing and hissing out what sounds like a painful little burp, then a few more. He sets his palm on top of his belly, and breathes shallowly, and the way his little starter potbelly is framed by his suspenders is enough to set Betty on fire. 

 

“But not quite there yet?” Betty asks, and Jughead hiccups once, patting his stomach to soothe it. 

 

“Not quite, no.” 

 

Betty takes this as a sign that she should push him a little more, as long as they’re here. 

 

“Hang on a second,” she tells Jughead as she slides out of the booth. “I have to grab something.” 

 

“Don’t worry,” he replies, eyes shining. “I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to, Betty Cooper.” 

 

*** 

 

She comes back with a Pop’s special-- a large hot fudge sundae in a fancy dish, and two spoons. 

 

“You going to help me in my endeavor?” Jughead asks with a smirk. 

 

“No,” Betty says, even as she takes one of the spoons. “Not that way. But I will help you… this way.” She spoons up a mixture of ice cream and hot fudge and directs it at Jughead’s mouth. He opens up and then swallows, a look of pleasure crossing his face even though he has to be achingly full by now, his gut sensitive to the slightest pressure. 

 

Betty gets the shivers if she looks at him for too long, she wants so badly to touch him, to see if he feels as full as he looks. 

 

“Mmm,” Jughead says, and closes his eyes softly in that way that he has to know drives her crazy. There’s no way he doesn’t know, because he slits an eye open to make sure she’s looking, and then does it again, with a light moan. 

 

“Really full,” he lets her know, taking another bite of sundae. 

 

“I know,” Betty says, under her breath, but loud enough that he can hear her. “I can hear you breathing.” 

 

And she can, now that she’s just a formica table away from him. Even with the rockabilly pop in the background, she can hear how he’s breathing more shallowly, along with the whining noises of a stomach that doth protest too much. 

 

Betty’s foot nudges Jughead’s, and he blinks at her slowly, his gaze a little sleepy, like he’s so full it’s too much effort. 

 

“I’m gonna need a belly rub after all this,” he says, nodding down to the melting sundae. 

 

“You’re going to get more than just that,” Betty says, pitching her voice low. Jughead smiles in a knowing way, and that seems to be all he needs to reapply himself to the spoon and the sundae. 

 

“Good boy,” Betty murmurs, and he hiccups, looking a little pained, but there’s a hint of pride in his expression, too. 

 

“I’m about to tap out,” he tells her, hiccupping again, his free hand rubbing circles into his side, “... but I’m going to have to sit here for a while.” 

 

***

 

By the time Jughead’s ready to move, Betty’s a few movements away from sublimation. Jughead burps after he stands up and his stomach resettles. He leans in and kisses the corner of Betty’s mouth softly. 

 

“Shall we?” he asks. 

 

“If you’re ready,” she says, a little wickedly. 

 

“As I’ll ever be,” Jughead says, and they make their way outside, door jingling shut behind them. 

 

“Where to now, my lady?” Jughead asks. “I’m going to need to get horizontal pretty darn soon and I can’t exactly do that in the back of a motorcycle…  or in your bed, much as I’d like to.” 

 

Betty shushes him. “Shh, don’t worry. I thought ahead.” 

 

Jughead looks bemused as Betty pulls a key fob out of her pocket and the headlights of a Subaru station wagon light up in a corner of the parking lot. 

 

“Your dad’s car?” Jughead still looks bemused. “Does he know you have it?” 

 

Betty walks towards it determinedly, and opens the door to the backseat for Jughead, showing him that she has a blanket all spread out on it already and has the seats folded down, along with a few pillows that Jughead recognizes as matching her bedspread set. 

 

“He only owes me about a thousand favors at this point,” Betty says. 

 

Jughead waits by the car door, standing near her. 

 

“My stomach hurts,” he tells her. “I think I ate too much.” 

 

“Did you,” Betty says, feigning clinical disinterest. “You mean eating three whole combo meals and two milkshakes and an ice cream sundae was a little too much?” 

 

“You love it,” he says in response, and pulls her in close, putting her hands on his belly.  

  
  


***

 

Betty almost loses her cool when, in the car, she discovers that Jughead’s jeans have been undone this whole time. She skims her hands along his ribbed henley, ready to meet resistance when she comes to his waistline in form of strained buttons and zippers but… she quickly pulls his shirt up to verify, and Jughead smirks at her. 

 

“You wanted me to eat until I couldn’t, didn’t you, Betty? Well, I had to make some room.” Jughead shifts a little and then resettles, his hip pressing up against where Betty’s kneeling on the folded down seat. 

 

“Mmm-hmm,” Betty says, her hands exploring the curves and planes of Jughead’s midsection-- right now mostly curves, to her delight. 

 

He feels deliciously extra in all the right places. 

 

“Betty,” Jughead says after a little bit, stifling a belch. “You know I’m too full for… well. You know.” 

 

“I do,” Betty says. “And I’m prepared for that, too.” She slides Jughead’s suspenders down his shoulders- but not without giving one of them a little tweak first. 

 

“Ow,” Jughead says. “Careful down there, I’m tender.” 

 

“And whose fault is that?” Betty asks, widening her eyes. “Who was it who ate until he couldn’t eat any more?” 

 

“Touché,” Jughead says. “But who was it who egged him on?” 

 

Betty blushes, but that doesn’t stop her hands from continuing on their trajectory, and she helps Jughead with getting his jeans down and then with his boxers. 

 

“These’ve been cutting into you, poor thing,” she tsks, and leans forward to press her mouth to the red lines on Jughead’s skin. 

 

He lets out a little moan as Betty’s hand makes contact with his cock, hot and throbbing for attention. 

 

“Betty--” he says, and then he doesn’t say much of anything.

 

***

 

Afterwards, Betty helps Jughead get dressed again, and lets a little shiver of pleasure run through her as they leave the jeans unbuttoned, tying his flannel loosely around his waist. She helps him sit up, and they both lean against the interior of the car. 

 

“How’s your tummy doing?” she asks when she hears it give a low gurgle, laying her head on his shoulder and reaching her arm around so she can rub at it gently with her hand.  

 

“Truthfully...” Jughead starts, “truthfully, it hurts. But in a good way?” He squeezes her a little. “It’s weird, you know? But I like it… the overeating. It feels almost… primal. Like it hits some sort of prehistoric urge. And”-- he squeezes her again, pressing a kiss to the top of her head-- “it definitely helps that I know you like it, too.” 

 

“That’s good,” Betty says quietly, into Jughead’s shirt. “Sometimes I worry that you’re only doing it for me, and not because you like it.” 

 

“Honey,” Jughead says, and a little candlelight of pleasure flickers to life in Betty’s chest, “I like anything you like. But luckily, I also really, really like to eat.” 


End file.
